Joined Up
by Mtwapa
Summary: Seven experiments with handwriting and receives some unexpected help. Fluff. Set after Human Error.


**Author's Note: Another piece of mindless C7 fluff! Set after Human Error but before Endgame. This has been floating around in my head for a while so thought I'd jot it down. Happy Reading.**

Disclaimer: STV and its characters belong to Paramount and Viacom.

**JOINED UP**

The twig produced a sharp cracking noise as it split in her borg-enhanced hand. Seven of Nine let out an uncharacteristic human sigh of frustration. "Inefficient!" she muttered.

She looked up from her task, her eyes momentarily resting on the family, frolicking at the water's edge. She still wasn't certain why she had allowed the computer to run a default simulation of a scenario, defined in earth's popular culture as 'The Beach'. However, she had programmed the human projections to always remain at least 200 metres away. It gave her a sense of control. A sense of control that she had lacked when she had been running her holodeck simulations of an intimate relationship with Commander Chakotay, that had almost ended with Voyager's destruction. She had gotten…carried away…another human peculiarity.

Her gaze lingered on the distant beings a little while longer. Perhaps she would interact with them as the Doctor had suggested, perhaps.

Seven gave a small groan and threw the fragmented driftwood with unerring accuracy into the swirling foam of the Indian Ocean. She looked down at the letters she had scrawled out in the damp sand. Within moments, the rising tide was already mutilating her attempts of becoming familiar with handwriting. She stood up and walked towards the water, examining the constantly changing debris the waves managed to churn up. The saltwater tingled against the dry skin of her bare feet - A refreshing feeling, she concluded.

"Computer, lower the heat intensity and create a light breeze from the west." she commanded, feeling beads of perspiration seemingly erupt everywhere as she bent down to pick up a piece of driftwood that she felt would serve well as a writing tool.

She checked her internal chronometer, "Computer, begin ebbing the tide over a period of twenty-three minutes." She set a reminder in the circuitry of her internal chronometer to sound an alarm after 23 minutes so that she could spend the next 7 minutes getting ready for her regeneration cycle which had to begin in precisely 30 minutes.

She sat down in the wet sand feeling the cool water soak through the thin material that was considered 'beachwear', her slightly sunburned legs were soothed by the waves lapping against her seating form. She picked up the thin piece of driftwood and began tracing out random letters from the alphabet. It had taken some time to acquaint herself with the different letters since her fingers were more adept at tapping out electronic symbols on her console. However, unlike her humanoid crewmates, her enhanced Borg physiology was quickly able to adapt and reproduce the motor movements that patterned the letters of the alphabet.

To her dismay she found herself tracing out 'C H A K-', in neat letters, with her borg-enhanced hand. Unacceptable! She let out an angry sigh at her lapse in concentrating on the 'big picture' as Mr Neelix liked to say and instead focusing on perfecting the individual strokes. Her hand wiped the letters of his name out of the sand infront of her.

Her borg hand trembled with control as she once again concentrated on writing in a cursive script, trying to master the wood as it traced a 'V', followed by an 'O'. When she had completed 'V o y a g e r', she found herself dissatisfied with her efforts. Her attempt looked like something produced by a child younger than Naomi. Her borg nature frowned on the activity. It was inefficient, she could produce 'V o y a g e r' in neat block letters, surely that was enough? Funnily enough, this time round it was her human nature that demanded perfection in this skill. She switched the driftwood to her right hand and began again. This time she tried writing 'H a n s e n'.

'H'

'A'

'N'

Feeling the 3 letters to be adequate so far she paused. She found the letter 'S' particularly difficult and complex to incorporate in a word. Her concentration was broken and the wood slipped from her fingers as the holodeck doors opened and a cheery, whistling figure entered. Seven was irritated by the intrusion and looked up to coldly inform the intruder that she had 9 minutes of holodeck time remaining still. Her face paled and her voice disappeared when she looked up and saw who the whistling figure actually was.

He stopped in his tracks and took a moment to appreciate the Earth scene infront of him. The officer in him was already annoyed that someone had forgotten to deactivate their simulation and that running the program was a drain on power reserves. However his appreciation of nature couldn't help but think that Tom had definitely outdone himself this time! No doubt B'elanna would be very appreciative of her husband's efforts even if her pregnancy hormones were driving her insane. It was perfect.

That's when he noticed the sun glinting off the metallic implant of an unfamiliar figure sitting not 4 metres away from him.

"Seven, I'm so sorry!" he stuttered, "I didn't mean to intrude." His tightly laced up feet seem to sink in the white sands and if that wasn't a problem already, it would seem that his legs refused to obey his mental commands to back out of the holodeck and leave the Astrometrics expert to some peace and quiet.

"Irrelevant." she replied brusquely, "I will continue this –"

"No Seven, please, it's my fault entirely. I really should have checked that there wasn't anyone in here. I just assumed that no-one would be in here this late." He noticed the broken piece of driftwood in her hand and curiosity got the better of him as his eyes wandered to the streaked sand infront of her.

"I assure you that this is within my allotted holodeck time, Commander." she blurted out quickly, remembering her previous reprimands about her holodeck time and neglecting her duties.

Chakotay smiled and waved her fears away with a simple hand gesture, "Chakotay, please, when we're off-duty."

His eyes twinkled with delight, and he felt an instinctive smile appear as she gave a slight nod in acknowledgment to his words.

No matter how much her Borg disposition tried to inhibit her reaction, Seven could not help but respond to him with a small smile of her own.

"Sorry, I seem to have ruined your activity," he said finding his voice once again.

Seven looked down and sighed, "Actually it was already ruined," she said softly.

Chakotay heard the sadness in the timbre of her voice and couldn't help but think if she was referring to more than just the sand infront of her. "Would you like some help?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at his openness and to his surprise he felt his cheeks redden so he hastened to add, "My handwriting isn't all that bad. School was pretty much done the old-school way, when I was growing up."

"Explain." she prompted before realising how rude it sounded, "Sorry. Elaborate please, Commander."

"Only if you agree to call me, Chakotay," he teased.

Seven patted the sand next to her, motioning him to sit beside her, "As you wish…Chakotay." His name formed softly, unwillingly on her lips and the Commander could not help but wonder why this was.

Chakotay sat beside her, dumping his boxing gloves next to him. His hands played with a small clump of seaweed, popping its yellow fruity bubbles. "Well my people believed in limiting the use of technology as much as possible so instead of the latest educational software, we used paper and pencil for pretty much everything." He gazed out at the horizon, "You know, when I was eight, I received a prize for having the best handwriting."

"If that was the case, then I believe that you also received the history prize."

He looked at her in surprise, "You mentioned before that you knew you wanted to be an anthropologist since you were six. It seems logical that you would have excelled at history since it is a basis of anthropology, because of your passion for the subject." He smiled and nodded at her assumption, "Can it also be assumed that you were teacher's pet too, Chakotay?" she asked good-naturedly.

Chakotay laughed, "Actually Seven, my best friend had that honour." He watched for her smile, which did appear. He had already noticed that none of the projections approached them and that the figures remained in the distance, so he was pleased that he had been able to elicit some kind of emotional response from her. In truth, he had been concerned about her since her strange behaviour two weeks ago when they passed through the minefield. "So what can I help you with?"

Seven frowned as she held up the wood between her fingers, examining it as if it held the mysteries of the world. "I have mastered block script but am unable to perfect a suitable cursive script. My technique is…" she hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word, "…flawed and hence unpredictable which is unacceptable. I especially seem to have problems with the 'S' character."

Chakotay chuckled, Seven gave him a sharp look. "No offense, Seven but to 'perfect' your technique, you have to follow your gut instincts and go with the flow. There isn't always a logical choice when it comes to joining up letters." He took the stick from her, "Here I'll show you…"

He traced out her name in the sand. Twice. Each time, he showed her how a different 'S' could be produced. Seven could not help but admire how the stick seemed to bend to his will as his hand moved fluidly and effortlessly over the sand as Maestro Da Vinci's hand had moved over his parchment.

"It would seem your assessment is incorrect, Comma-" she saw the mock hurt in his eyes as she slipped into using his official title, "Chakotay, your handwriting technique displays that you are highly skilled with writing implements and indeed are a lot more than 'all that bad'."

Chakotay grinned, passing the driftwood back to her, "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

Accepting it from him, she began to write out 'L e d o s i a', he watched her. She started out confidently. Her brow was furrowed and she was biting her lower lip. This was a different concentration from her normal attention to her daily duties, it was more humanising on her features and Chakotay suddenly realised that the reason he hadn't registered Seven when he walked in was because she was dressed in loose fitting shorts and a tank-top. Her hair was piled into a loose bun on top of her head but escaping tendrils, framed and softened her sharp features, allowing her natural beauty and perfection to shine through. He found himself in unfamiliar territory as another blush climbed from his neck and spread along his cheeks. He shook his head in attempt to clear his thoughts.

"So when did you become interested in handwriting?" he inquired.

"I had a human impulse to try this activity. When the Captain introduced me to her Da Vinci simulation I noticed that the hologram had a very elegant and flowing script, which I found very appealing. I wished to try it." She paused at this point, "Unsatisfactory." she commented quietly, surveying 'L e d o s i a'. "You make joined up writing look too easy."

"It takes a little practice, Seven, don't give up so easily." He shifted his seating position slightly as his hand closed over hers, "Here, let me show you."

Her hand tensed under his. He pretended not to notice the effect his touch had on her or the rush of blood that tinged her cheeks pink. Probably safer that way, his mind warned. "Follow your instincts, Seven," he murmured, as he guided her hand through the letters. His own words were ringing in his ears because he wasn't sure he could take his own advice.

If he followed his instincts, she would be in his arms instead of sitting beside him.

If he followed his instincts, he would be kissing her ruby lips and not merely watching her bite down on them in concentration.

If he followed his instincts he would be looking into her aqua eyes and babbling to her about the hues of blue and green in the ocean, instead of just sitting in silence.

They finished tracing out 'L e d o s i a'.

She did not pull away and his hand remained on top of hers. He decided to take a chance and squeezed softly, "See, following your gut feeling isn't always that bad." he whispered.

She turned to face him and nodded. Chakotay once again found himself very much wanting to kiss her. His brown eyes held hers for a moment as he felt her fingers link between his.

Seven blinked and the moment passed, a new shyness filled her features as her gaze focused downwards on the sand. She blinked several more times, unwilling to let her eyes fill with tears from the pain she felt because she knew that the one moment she would probably ever have with Commander Chakotay was over before she had even realised it had begun. She cleared her throat nervously, "Thank-you for your assistance, Commander," she used his designation to distance herself from him even though her hand remained clasped in his. Her eyes sought his for a moment and she was surprised to see him flinch when she used his rank. "You have been most helpful, I will bear this gut feeling in mind, the next time I practice."

His hand slipped away from hers and Seven suddenly felt cold, a cold that she now knew had nothing to do with the gentle sea breeze. "Excuse me Commander but I do not wish to intrude on your holodeck time, I already seem to have over-run into yours." She stood up, "I need to regenerate before my shift starts."

He nodded and also stood up. They shared an uncomfortable silence as he accompanied her to the doors of the holodeck. The doors slid open

"Goodnight Commander."

She inhaled sharply as he suddenly took her hand and drew her back inside, "Have dinner with me, tomorrow, after your shift ends?"

"I promise it won't be anything remotely related to Leola root," he whispered as his eyes held hers again.

She laughed softly, a sound that was music to his ears. He smiled, that same smile that her holoversion of him smiled; the one that curved his sensuous lips up and ended in two dimples. She knew that she did not have any strength, Borg or human that could resist that smile. She thought she would be immune but here she was falling for him again, falling into those warm brown depths of his that made her feel so human.

She leaned in towards him, "I accept." she whispered before leaving.

Chakotay felt a warm blanket of happiness settle around his heart on hearing her acceptance as he turned around to go back into the holodeck. Who would have thought that joined up handwriting could turn into so much more...

FIN


End file.
